


Vibrant Red, Brilliant Blue

by InitialA



Category: Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon | Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pacific Rim, Alternate Universe - Pacific Rim Fusion, Angst, Cross-Posted on Tumblr, Crossover, F/F, Jaegers (Pacific Rim), alternate universe - Jaeger Pilors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-22
Updated: 2015-02-22
Packaged: 2018-03-14 11:53:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3409625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InitialA/pseuds/InitialA
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Violon Tide would run until the conn-pod ran red with her pilots’ blood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vibrant Red, Brilliant Blue

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this on a prompt last year, rediscovered it when cleaning up my blog.

She would follow Michiru into the depths of hell.

Some days it felt like they were already there.

The last days of war were upon them. Rumors were everywhere, shadows with no clues to the truth: the program was shutting down, the walls were failing, people were starving, people were making human sacrifices, people were setting themselves on fire in protest, the rich were launching themselves into space. The truth was worse: word came daily of the Jaegers falling, one by one (the worst day was the announcement of three Jaegers falling before the last, Cherno Alpha, could finally annihilate the beast), but Violon Tide would run until the conn-pod ran red with her pilots’ blood.

Some days that time felt closer than others.

Some nights they held each other tighter than others.

But they were ready. Defeat the kaiju or die trying. Die fighting than helpless and waiting for the day when hope ran out. Die  _for_ something. Not for glory or honor, but for  _life_. For the chance that someone else might live.

So when the alarm went off that morning--when Coldstriker was heading for Osaka--they said nothing. They didn’t banter, they didn’t tease, didn’t say a word. They were in each other’s heads. They knew.

Michiru was the dominant pilot, but Haruka was the talker. LOCCENT needed a talker. Michiru was the tactician, the striker. Haruka merely kept Violon Tide running for her, and kept LOCCENT informed.

She was beautiful that morning, steel and silk, her eyeliner sweeping to points, her lipstick as vibrantly red as the kaiju’s blood was brilliantly blue. Haruka stole glances of her as she called out attack formations; she felt the rage inside, felt it moving and fueling them both, but on the outside… Michiru could have been annoyed that she had had to get out of bed so early, but for her eyes.

Her eyes betrayed her rage, when Coldstriker took out their shoulder cannons.

Her voice betrayed everything when Haruka’s arm was damaged, when the conn-pod swam as the digital screens flickered, when she voiced the command to self-destruct Violon Tide to halt, if not stop, the kaiju before it could reach land.

They said a thousand things in an instant. Their hands were laced together, when the reactor blew.


End file.
